Since her return from Chicago she had not been able to find it. Baldy had complained, “Sophy must have taken it home with her.” But Sophy had not taken it. It was here. And Jane knew, with a certainty that swept away all doubts, why.
“You are a lantern, Jane, held high....”
She found the miniature and carried it back to Mrs. Follette. “I told you you were pretty and you have never gotten over it.”
She had regained her radiance. Mrs. Follette reflected complacently that girls were like that. Moods of the moment. Even in her own day.
She spoke of it to Evans that night. “Jane had lunch with me. She was very tired and depressed. I told her not to worry. It’s natural she should feel the responsibility of the future. Marriage is a serious obligation.”
“Marriage is more than that, Mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s a great adventure. The greatest adventure. If a woman loved me, I’d want her to fly to me—on wings. There’d be no fear of the future if Jane loved Towne.”
“But she does love him. She wouldn’t marry him for his money.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” with a touch of weariness. “It is one of the things I can’t make clear to myself. And I think I’d rather not talk about it, Mother.”